Mithir: Eye of the White Council
by lurker2209
Summary: Revised and Reposted! Just before Helm's Deep, a mysterious woman brings intelligence from within Isengard itself. But will her secret fear be the ruin of everyone's hope? Chapter 8: Among the Enemy
1. Chapter 1: Orc Armor and Elf Cloak

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Mithir: Eye of the White Council

Author: Lurker

Rating: PG

Distribution: If you want it, just e-mail me!

Disclaimer: Characters and main plots belong to JRR Tolkien. Certain material taken specifically from the movies belongs to Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, and Phillipa Boyens, as well as New Line Cinemas. Aranel, Aranarth, Malthansul, any other original characters, and the original storyline are property of the author. 

Timeline: Begins just before the Battle of Helm's Deep and continues from there.

A/N: The storyline for this fic will use a mixture of movie and book cannon, generally whichever I prefer. Actually, I think only two movie incidents are going to come into play, the rest is book cannon. The timeline of the books from appendix A to RotK will be the basis for most of the prestory. Material deleted from the movies will be referenced. And yes, the 17 years between when Frodo gets the ring and when he sets out on his journey are included. They'll be very important at some point. Any deviations from cannon, a timeline, and translations will be included in the appendices, which will be updated when each chapter is posted. 

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Chapter 1: Orc Armor and Elf Cloak

Orcs did not sing while marching to battle. Orcs came in the darkness, fought their battles, and both grieved and rejoiced without song. But the Uruk-hai were no ordinary Orcs. They marched without fear in the full light of day, driven by the will of Saruman. And they chanted, harsh words to the rhythm of their steps and the clanking of their armor. It was a fearsome sound, and the slaves of Isengard trembled at it as they marched to wipe out the Rohirrim at their fortress of Helm's Deep. Mog trembled too, but with a deeper fear than that of punishment. With a sigh, he strained again at the massive harness that connected him to the line of slaves and the monstrous catapult they pulled along the rough ground. _2 hours, 2 hours._ The thoughts of the break he would receive had kept him moving through the long hours of the day. 

Finally the shift was relieved. As another group of slaves moved to take their places the weary group stumbled to the back of one of the mighty wagons. They were given a hunk of moldy bread and a few swallows of water. But this was no rest. Saruman's mighty host would stop for nothing, least of all comforts. The slaves clustered behind the wagon, walking with the pace of the orc-host. The eyes of the overseers were still upon them, and their long whips prevented any from drifting off or falling behind. 

The battle would begin soon, and the slaves quickly received new orders. A vast host of untrained men would be needed to hurl themselves at the walls of Helm's Deep. Their value would not be in fighting skill, but the sheer numbers of causalities they could sustain. The slaves knew they would be sacrificed, and would have readily killed those who held them in bondage. But at the armory wagon they were given only short knives and long, pointed staffs. They would be no match against the axes and swords of their masters. 

Mog said little as he was given a leather jerkin and helmet. They were made in the orcish fashion, but would give little protection. His worn pack, like that of the other slaves, was born at all times, so it consisted of little. A worn cloak, grey and tattered, wrapped around a precious trinket or two, and slung from the back with a bit of rope. It was a simple matter to let it fall into his hands, and untie the knots without attracting notice. Now for a distraction. Mog knew the fellow slaves well enough. Two troublemakers stood in one of the groups. Mog stepped on the foot of one, and elbowed the other in the side, before stepping to the side. The fight broke out between them quickly, with the others scrambling to join a side or avoid the combatants. The whips of the guards broke them up, almost before they had begun. No one noticed a large, grey rock that had not existed before. 

No one that passed behind them noticed either. The legions of the orc hosts gave it not even the slightest glance. 10 minutes passed, then 20, and 30, and finally an hour. When the last of the host was far in the distance, the rock seemed to move. Then with a bound, Mog pulled the cloak aside, leapt up, and dashed off behind a nearby hill. Despite the heat he kept the cloak wrapped around him. None saw as he slipped through, finding paths that would enable him to outrun the mighty host.

* * * 

"Haldir, nad no ennas." Rúmil whispered to his brother, pointing to a small rocky outcropping, "Something is out there."

"I see it too. Hold a minute." He commanded the company in Sindarin, raising his hand to halt the host of elves, marching to renew their alliance with men.

"Show yourself." Haldir commanded in the common tongue.

"Willingly." With that Mog stepped forward, face hidden in the shadow of the cloak. A gasp came up from the elves. There was certainly something strange about this creature. No orc would be able to tolerate the Elven cloaks of Lothlórien, but no Elf would ever wear orcish armor. 

"Who are you?" Rúmil asked.

"I am of the Edain," the stranger announced, "and under the protection of Galadriel, and the orders of Mithrandir. I am known as Mithir."

"I have heard rumors of this grey watcher, he is said to have brought news from Barad-dûr itself." Orophin, Haldir's younger brother murmured.

"And now I bring tidings from within Orthanac." The stranger answered, using the elvish language, to their surprise. "You are going to Helm's Deep. Take me with you. They will have need of me there." And at that Mog, or Mithir, for he had many names and many secrets, stood silent, awaiting their decision.

"I do not trust him," Rúmil whispered to his brothers, as the three gathered close for conference.

"Mithir is said to be well-known among our northern kin." Haldir countered. "And I have heard him called by our Lady the right hand of Mithrandir."

"But is he truly who he claims to be, or some imposter?" Rúmil argued.

"There is something familiar about this stranger; I think we can trust him." Orophin countered.

"There is." Haldir agreed. "Elrohir and Elladan will know if he is Mithir. And if he is an imposter, we cannot let him go free." He appointed Orophin to watch over the mysterious messenger and hurried the march onward.

* * *

A soft whistle alerted Haldir that the shadows approaching were friendly. He silently signaled his followers to allow them to come forward and found, as expected, Elladan and Elrohir appeared from behind the scarce underbrush. 

"Well?" Haldir questioned.

"We are just in time," Elladan replied, "Saruman's forces are moving quickly."

"Their aim is the fortress of Helm's Deep," Elrohir added. "The Rohirrim have gathered there to make their stand this night."

Haldir turned to look east, "Can we reach the fortresses ere nightfall?" The Galadrim had lived so long staying to the safety of their trees that he was unsure of these new fortresses of men.

"Yes," Elladan assured, "it lies to the north of Edoras."

"But we have little time for delay." Elrohir cautioned.

"We must have one," Haldir requested. "We came upon a spy in the wilderness. He gives his name as Mithir and says he is under Mithrandir's orders and our Lady's protection, but we do not know this stranger."

At the sound of his name, Mithir stepped forward, and met the eyes of the twins. They exchanged a glance and Elladan spoke, "It is Mithir. Unbound his hands, for you can trust him. You come from Isenguard?" The last question he addressed to the spy.

"I do," was the reply.

"Come then, we will hear your words when we arrive at Helm's Deep."

* * *


	2. Chapter 2: The Blood of Númenor

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Mithir: Eye of the White Council

The Blood of Númenor 

  


The Elven host reached the gates of Helm's deep just after dark. They had moved silently, speaking little. Mithir spoke nothing at all, but accepted silently the lembas bread passed out to keep up their strength throughout the march. Elladan sounded his horn as they reached the gates, which were swiftly opened. 

"How is this possible?" Théoden's amazement was obvious. 

"I bring word from Elrond of Rivendell." Haldir answered him. "An alliance once existed between Elves and Men. Long ago we fought and died together. We come to honor that allegiance." 

Aragorn rushed down the stairs, followed by Legolas. Mithir watched them both closely, knowing his fate was linked to theirs. 

"Mae govannen, Haldir! You are most welcome!" Aragorn pulled the elf into a hug, which he responded to hesitantly, but warmly. 

"We are proud to fight alongside men, once more." Haldir reaffirmed.

"But why do you bring an one of the Enemy's servants among you?" Théoden questioned.

"I serve no enemy of yours." The stranger replied, pulling off the cloak and helm to revel hair cut very short, in the manner of a slave. "But I come from among the hosts of Saruman, and I bring news of his battle plan."

"Who are you?" But Aragorn's question was ignored, for Legolas spotted one of a type of flying creatures he'd noticed earlier, but had never been able to shoot. He strung an arrow to the bow quickly and paused only a second for aim. But it was enough; the stranger reached out and jogged the arrow at the last minute, sending it astray.

"One who shoots as true as the Prince of Mirkwood should not shoot what he does not know." The reprimand was soft, but to Legolas the voice was familiar. 

"Mithir!" he exclaimed. "My lady, you are well." At that, then entire courtyard looked twice at this stranger. It was as if their eyes had been opened, for now it seemed plain to see that the one they had mistaken for the enemy, was truly a woman. Elrohir and Elladan exchanged glances, and smiled a little, but their eyes held a trace of apprehension. Haldir looked amazed, and watched the girl as if looking for a resemblance to someone he had once known. Mithir only closed her eyes, as if in regret that the words had been said. Legolas seemed a little confused at this, but she smiled.

"Now your eyes see truly," she spoke to Legolas, ignoring the amazement around her, "but I will show you what guards above your head." With that she put two fingers to her mouth and gave a shrill whistle. "Wait a minute."

But Aragorn's questions would not wait. He had heard occasionally of Mithir, the grey watcher, from Gandalf or Elrond. And while the identity of this spy was always kept secret, the exploits were known. They said he, or she rather, as Aragorn realized had ventured in Dol Gulder.

"Mithir? Who are you, and why do you come among us at a time like this?"

She didn't respond right away, but seemed to think, then pulled back her hood and stood erect. "I am Aranel, daughter of Arathorn. The blood of Númenor flows through my veins." The majesty in her voice and bearing was plain to see, and few doubted her right to be there, as a daughter of kings. "I come from within Isengard itself, bidden by Gandalf to watch, unseen, and I have brought you my report. But it must wait for this one." 

With that she raised her arm, and a large falcon came to rest. Aranel bore no glove or even a sleeve, but the talons did not seem to affect her bare skin. She seemed to speak with the bird, with low throaty chirpy sounds, and received some sort of reply before raising her mind to return her messenger into the air. 

"He is the captain of the falcons that guard the air above you. Saruman's spies have given no accurate report of your numbers or fortifications thanks to their vigilance. But that will not prevent his armies from approaching. We have two, perhaps 2 and a half hours. Let me address your battle council."

The leaders exchanged uncertain glances, but Elrohir broke the silence. "The words she speaks are true. Come, let us hear her report."

The leaders made their way up into the keep, and into the throne room. Aranel was about to enter, when Aragon's hand reached out to her wrist, stopping her. 

"There is no daughter of Arathorn." He looked into her eyes, his own blazing, daring her to continue the lie.

"Aragorn," she said softly, "draw your mind back. Back to your father's death, when your mother brought you to Elrond. What do you remember?" Something in her tone drove him to comply, to think back to his youngest years.

"My mother was…very worried about something." He said, remembering things he had long ago pushed to the back of his mind. 

"Someone." Aranel corrected softly. "I was very ill, some sort of pestilence. Elrond's skill kept me from dying, but I did not improve as he would like. So, thinking the air and water of Lórien would help me, he sent me to Galadriel, with his daughter."

"Arwen. But why did she never speak of you? Why did you never return?" Aragorn asked. Aranel paused, took in a breath, and slowly let it out. 

"Brother, I cannot explain my entire life in a few moments. But….when I was a very small child, I looked, unbidden, into Galadriel's mirror. What I saw there frightened me, and horrified the White Council."

"What was it?"

"Do not ask me that. I can only tell you that they wisely determined to keep us apart, unaware of each other."

"But you learned of me?"

"I did." A faint shadow passed quickly over her face. "And now you have learned of me." She continued. "The rest must wait." Aragorn nodded reluctantly, and turned towards the room. "Wait," she stopped him, "There is one thing I would know of you first. Where is the rest of the fellowship? You, Legolas, and Gimli are here, Gandalf has gone for aid. Where are the others?"

"Frodo and Sam have gone into the wilderness to complete their errand." Aragorn began.

"Then it is far away from here. Beyond our aid." Aranel seemed anxious to know this.

"Out of both our reach and our protection. Merry and Pippin were taken by Orcs, but escaped. Gandalf assured us they were safe."

"And the 9th? Boromir?" She seemed reluctant to speak these words, but did so as if somehow compelled.

"He fell at the Falls of Rauros, fighting the orcs."

"I see." Aranel bowed her head.

"Did he—?"

"It is a long story." Aranel cut off her brother's question. "And all of it sad, but...not now."

* * *


	3. Chapter 3: The Council of Théoden

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Mithir: Eye of the White Council

Chapter 3: The Council of Théoden 

  


When Aragorn and Aranel entered Théoden's chambers they found the various leaders sitting around a stone table, with Théoden at the head. A place had been left for Aragorn at Théoden's side, but no one seemed to know where Aranel ought to sit. She herself wasn't going to waste time on such issues, and simply walked to the foot where all could see and hear what she had to say.

"Théoden, King of Rohan, I come to you on behalf of Gandalf Greyhame, or Gandalf the White as he is now. He appointed my errand to Isengard, and it is from within its walls that I bring my report, if you will hear it."

"I will take whatever aid I can this night, even the councils of a strange maiden who comes from my enemy's stronghold. Tell me what you know of Saruman's battle plans."

"Saruman is not unaware of the strength of this fortress, nor is he unknowing of its weaknesses. He will attack in three columns, with the archers of each column to cover the men with ladders." Aranel continued to lay out the enemy's strategy, such as she knew it. Most of it sounded wise to Aragorn's ears and were things he expected from the dark wizard. This would be no easy battle. 

"You spoke of catapults among Saruon's war machines. Do you know when they might be used?" Legolas broke into the report with a question.

"They will have the catapults, but they will probably be used only to attack the keep. If the men on the wall have only wooden shields it should be sufficient." Aranel responded, now offering strategy advice rather than simply a report of the enemy's movements.

"Why will they not use them?" Théoden asked. 

"Catapults require grease to function smoothly, and the Uruk-Hai will open the barrels only to find them hardened into a sticky tar."

"Salt." Elladan's dancing eyes met those of this twin and Aragorn. Aranel caught the look and grinned briefly.

"There may be a barrel or two they could acquire from someplace else, but the catapults at least will be hindered." 

"The ladders and the attempt on the causeway are what we have expected." Gamling, Théoden's advisor surmised. "Do you know what other attacks Saruman has planned?"

This brought a frown to Aranel's face. "There were rumors…" she began, "rumors that Saruman sought a way to breach the deepening wall." 

"How would he do so, the stone is strong." Gimli was agast.

"I searched long for anything substantial, but the only thing I ever heard was Orthanac fire. Its meaning I do not understand, and the Uruk are highly superstitious, particularly about their master. I can only advise caution." A wary silence fell on the group as they contemplated Aranel's words.

"What of the Wild Men?" Gamling asked.

"There are perhaps a thousand of them. They will attack the villages of Rohan in small bands; a few will come here, but I think the largest group aims for Edoras. We must leave them to the garrison you left there."

"What of the orc armor, where is it weakest?" Legolas asked in true character.

"At the neck…and under their arms." Aranel replied thoughtfully. "And the slaves wear only thick leather, such as this," she gestured to her own clothes. "Their purpose is simply to die in great numbers and exhaust us. Aim for their masters and their courage will diminish quickly."

"Your words are well received, daughter of Arathorn," Théoden spoke, "but they do not bring much comfort. Eight thousands of Saruon's Uruk-hai, and two thousands of their slaves…it is a force to shudder at."

"We will stand firm against them," Haldir spoke, "the Alliances of old hold true. Men and Elves stand once again against a common enemy."

"And Dwarves. Do not forget us." Gimli added.

"I have no doubt you will represent your people well, master dwarf." Théoden assured. "We are adjourned. Order the men for the approach."

"I will set sentries to watch for them," Haldir offered.

"In this place, 'tis more likely you will hear them before you see them." Aranel interjected. "The Uruk aim for speed not stealth, on this night."

* * *


	4. Chapter 4: Daegrist, Shadow cleaver

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Mithir: Eye of the White Council

Maegor 

  


The council filed out to finish their preparations for the attack and Aragorn found himself left with his sister once again. 

"How long do you think it will be?" he asked her, having quickly learned that her judgment was fairly accurate where the orcs were of concern.

"We have…an hour and a half, maybe less." 

"Perhaps you'd like to change out of those orcish things into something less foul?" he offered. Aranel looked down at her clothes.

"I have to confess I've rarely thought of it over the past months, but they are most unpleasant." The women and children were all hidden safely in the caves, so there was little hope of obtaining anything for Aranel that would suit her sex, but she seemed equally comfortable with the idea of finding some clothes intended for a lad. Aragorn headed down to the edge of the keep where the captain of the Helm's Deep garrison had his living quarters. The man answered his knock quickly.

"Lord Aragorn, how may I be of service to you?"

"Léod, my sister is recently come from spying upon the orcs, and I hoped to find some clothes for her. I though perhaps something of Léodred's might do." Aragorn gestured to his sister.

"Of course, of course, milady." He gave Aranel a curious glance, but his eyes widened at her present clothes and he seemed to decide that the garments of a boy would be better suited. "My son has been sent to the armory, but there are some things here you can borrow. Come in, and I will see what I might find." He ushered them into the main room, which was scattered with objects and bags. A few scrolls of parchment burned on the fireplace.

"You will have to excuse the mess," Léod explained, reaching into a chest, "I am trying to send anything of value away into the caves in case of looting. And those maps of the far reaches of the caves must never fall into orcish hands."

"A wise decision." Aragorn agreed.

"Here, milady. These are not particularly fine garments, but they are stout. Will they do?"

"They will be wonderful. Thank-you." Aranel took them and smiled.

"You can change in here, if you wish, milady." Léod opened the door to a second room. "Is there any other way I can help you?"

"If you have water and a cloth it might help to rid me of this orc-stench. I fear have become a little accustomed to it, but still it is dreadful."

"Of course. There is a pitcher and bowl in there. You will find a towel on the side. Fram," he called to a nearby guard, "will you fill this bucket with water?"

Aragorn waited while his sister washed and changed, curious to see how she looked without the layers of dirt and orcish clothes. She was fast and emerged in a few minutes, dressed in the simple brown leggings and tunic. She looked a little like the women of the Dúnedain when they garbed themselves as rangers to protect their people. The water had removed most of the grime from her face and hands, and it revealed the lines of care etched on her face. With a start, Aragorn realized he'd been thinking of her as his little sister. But if she was younger, it was only by a few minutes. Aranel was no maiden like Eowyn, and it was clear that she, like him had bore many burdens over the long years. As they walked out of Léod's quarters with a murmur of thanks, Aragon let loose a slight chuckle. 

"What is it?" his sister asked.

"I think your hair is shorter than mine," he said, a wry grin in his face. Aranel laughed herself.

"Not perhaps the fairest picture of the women of the Dúnedain," she looked down at herself. "But if the men of the south wish to see an example of the women of the north, they should seek another. I have never been conventional."

"Somehow I guessed that, though the women of the North walk about dressed as rangers when they have need."

"So they do, though it might seem a strange practice in the southern kingdom." 

They were walking along the Deepening Wall now, along the middle level, above the ground and below the high parapets where most of the forces were awaiting the Uruk-hai. To Aragorn it seemed that Aranel started looking for something, counting the stone arches that held up the overhang that protected this middle pathway, but he said nothing. Suddenly she stopped before an arch, and bent down in the corner it formed with the thick wall. 

"What is it?" Aragorn asked

"Something I left here months ago that I could not take into Isengard." She felt along the edges of the stone, before finally grasping onto one of the smaller ones that joined the arch to the wall and pulled. It revealed a marvelous hiding place. Behind the stone was a long, narrow space that held a leather pouch. 

"What is it?" he asked.

"You'll see" She methodically set it aside and reached to replace the stone. As he handed it to her, Aragorn noticed that the stone was bare of mortar, which was all adhered to the edges of the opening. It slid in roughly, but made a snug fit, and Aragorn could scarce believe it was not fastened into the wall.

Her hiding place again disguised, Aranel opened the leather pouch and withdrew two long objects, wrapped in leather strips. She carefully unbound them to reveal an elegant sheath, which she fastened to her belt, and a beautiful sword. 

Aranel lifted the sword to eye level and tested its strength with a few strokes before sheathing it.

"A fine sword." Aragorn commented.

"Maegor has served me well."

"Piercing dread, for the effect it has on orcs?"

"We can only hope so."

"So you intend to fight?" Aranel examined her brother's face, but found neither approval nor disdain.

"I'm a spy, not a warrior. But I was prepared to fight my way out of Isengard if discovered, and I will not wait this out in the caves. Besides, I think we have need of every sword available this night."

"Then we shall have to find you some armor." Aragorn accepted her words and acted as if the decision was final.

"I have mail, though it would be best not to speak of it."

"If you have worn it all the while, hidden beneath your clothes, then it must be of…"

"Mithril. Yes. It was a gift, but it is better that no one know. Let them think there was none small enough to fit."

"A gift from whom?" He asked, curious about where she would acquire such a thing.

"Galadriel. It was a going away present, when Gandalf took me into his service."

"You'll have to tell me the entire story sometime."

"I will."

"So you knew the battle would come here?" Aragorn asked, after they'd gathered the bundle and continued again along the wall.

"At its most desperate moment, this will always be the place of retreat for the Rohirrim, and I was bound to Isengard until that point."

"How long were you there?"

"I left Rivendell the day after Elrond's council, at the request of both Elrond and Gandalf."

"I never saw you there." Aragorn marveled.

"I keep to the fringes of Rivendell, generally. Most of the Elves, and even some among the Dúnedain know of Mithir, but the less they know the better."

"Because of me?" Aragorn asked, looking troubled.

Aranel sighed. "Yes, that, and secrecy is always the aid of the ethir."

"So it is." Aragorn agreed as they came to where the wall joined the keep and ascended a few flight of stairs to the outer court of the Hornberg. 

They found a helm and a small shield at the Helm's deep armory in the inner court, and walked way back out to the outer wall of the keep where they found Legolas and Haldir near the great gates. 

"Little Fírebthêl!" Haldir greeted her. "You were but a Maiden when I last saw you in Lórien."

"I know. For too long my work has kept me away from the fairer places of this world, but I have not forgotten their beauty. Or what I learned there, if you have a bow I can wield." 

"Of course. We'll see if my most difficult pupil still remembers her lessons."

"Difficult?" Aranel said, in mock offense. "Galadriel always said I was merely spirited."

"Her ladyship didn't have to teach you how to shoot." Haldir retorted, bringing a laugh to Aragorn and Legolas. One of the elves found a spare bow and quiver and Aranel carefully slung them over her shoulders.

"So shall we have a demonstration of your skill?" Legolas asked.

"Only if you agree to be the target." Aranel responded.

"O, there's little danger there." Legolas replied, to Haldir and Aragorn's amusement. "Where do you want me to stand?"

"Wherever you please. Distance won't protect you from the consequences of your words." Aranel answered coldly, but with a twinkle in her eye. But Legolas didn't respond, and instead fixed his eyes on the horizon.

"Man no tenn?" Aragorn asked. "The orcs?" He ventured, as the jovial atmosphere that covered their pre-battle nerves was stripped away to reveal a tense apprehension.

"No," the elf replied, his eyes following something through the sky. "I think you have a message." He said to Aranel, pointing upwards.

She following his fingers and squinted. "I think you are right. We can hope for good tidings." She said as she walked towards the stairs that led above the great gates.

* * *

A/N: resposted 4/27/03 to correct some minor spelling changes!

Well thanks to my loyal reviewers! I've made a few changes to the appendices based on what you guys have said…hopefully in an attempt to make some things more clear. 

Tsukino Rowan: Wow…thanks for the high praise. It's pretty much been my motivation to polish up this chapter! No, this will not be a Legomance! I'd love to try to write one that's in accord with cannon, if I could ever figure out how! There will be Aranel romance later on, but OC/minor character. So I can pretty much write it as I please without corrupting cannon characters. And research rules! Glad to know all that hard work pays off.

Letylyf: Well, now that I think of it, it is slightly incongruous. But to my mind it was always the least severe change (Having Faramir out of character and the Ents unaware of Saruman's actions always seemed more disturbing! And my biggest beef with the movies is that they didn't leave us hanging at Cirith Ungol. It would have made everyone want to read the books!) But as you said, it makes the story work. Thanks for putting up with it! 

* * *


	5. Chapter 5: Hallon Halbaradion

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Mithir: Eye of the White Council

Chapter 5: Hallon Halbaradion 

  


Aragorn found his sister on the top parapet, a small swallow flitting away from her fingers. She stared pensively out over the plains.

"A message?" he asked.

"From Gandalf, but likely two days old." She frowned. "To you, he sends a single word, Estel."

"Hope." Aragorn smiled thinly at the word he had borne as a name for his childhood.

"It is here, with us, that the hope of the world rises or falls. The quest will fail, if it is not aided, even from afar." Aragorn nodded in solemn agreement, and stared out with her at the defenders on the walls. 

"By the Valar!" Aranel started, and looked intently at a point on the walls below for a minute, frowning.

"What is it?" her brother asked.

"Come," Aranel suddenly smiled, "I will show you." And she walked down the stairs without looking for him to follow. Aragorn sighed internally at this perpetual enigma that was his newfound sister, and turned to follow her. He caught up with her swift stride, and followed her silently out of the keep. Just outside, they ran into Legolas, stringing his bow.

"Where are you going in such a hurry?" he joined them.

"To show Aragorn something. But I think you shall like to see this as well." They continued out to the outer wall, and Aranel led them to the far side of the lower level, where the wall met the mountainside. She stopped behind one of the new arrivals, a slight-looking elf, who was testing the weight of the sword. Drawing her own silently, she brought it up to parry his stroke as he turned around. 

"Naneth!" the boy exclaimed, for though he dressed and even walked like an elf, he was very much human. 

"Yes, Arandur." Aranel broke the contact, and swung her sword lower. To his credit Arandur parried the stroke automatically, despite the surprise. 

"I came here to fight the battle." He said defiantly, matching to his words a sudden attack.

"You are but a boy of 14." Aranel parried the blows easily and they progressed into a pattern of circling and testing. 

"There are many younger among the Rohirrim. And they are not of the Dúnedain. I can shoot as true as any man here, and I do not lack skill with the sword."

"You did not come here with Elrond's permission." Aranel's statement demanded an explanation, as she continued the swordplay."

"He said I was too young, but when Elladan and Elrohir set out, I slipped among the company." He explained, with a mixture of shame and pride.

"And when they discovered you, they let you stay?" Aranel said skeptically.

"We were five days from Rivendell by then," Arandur blocked another blow. "They could not send me back alone, or spare any to accompany me."

"You spent five days with a host of elves before they realized you were not one of them?" She was amazed; such a feat would be difficult even with her skill.

"I am the son of Mithir." Arandur answered with a cheeky grin, and with a twist of his wrist disarmed her. Aranel stood still for a minute. He had fought her to a draw a time or two, but never bested her in swordplay, though she had known the day would come. He is no longer a boy.

"So you are." Her face softened and she pulled him into an embrace.

"Arandur, son of Halbarad, I have missed you these long days." 

"And I have missed you also, mother."

"You know it grieved me to leave so soon after you arrived." She pulled him back to look in his eyes.

"I know mother. Gandalf had need of you, and as Elrond told me, this is not a time to think of one's own desires, but the future of the age."

Aranel seemed moved by his words, but managed to say, "May you always trust such wisdom."

Aragorn and Legolas had stepped back into the shadows to give them some privacy, but as mother and son parted, Arandur spotted them.

"Legolas!"

"Hallon." The elf swept the young boy into a hug, and then released him to tousle his blonde locks, which were showing a little evidence of his own dark hair color. "You dyed your hair."

"I had to look like an elf, and mother's dyes do not wash out quickly."

"I suppose they do not."

"I've missed you Legolas, no one at Rivendell is as much fun to hide from." 

"And I've often wished I was seeking you in Mirkwood rather than orcs here."

"Have you seen lots of orcs? We saw the tracks of a few while we were passing Fanghorn. Have you seen it, Legolas? I could hide in that forest and it would take a score of elves to find me."

Aragorn had moved quickly to his sister's side, his mind so full of questions that he didn't know which to ask first, but his impervious calm did not break. 

"You have a son?"

Aranel turned her gaze from her son and the friend that had helped so much to raise him, smiling a little at her brother's confusion.

"I have a son, Arandur, son of Halbarad, who was captain of the rangers."

"Halbarad, who kept the watch near Dol Gulder, and according to a rumor, fought with his wife at his side?"

To this Aranel simply nodded. "He was killed fighting orcs on the east side of the Misty Mountains. Maddened by grief we slew them, but his wound was beyond our skill. He breathed his last in my arms." The grief overcame her for a moment, and Aragorn put a hand on her shoulder, to comfort her.

"We were forced off the mountain by a storm," She continued, "and Thranduil gave our party shelter and healing for the wounded. Arwen came, from Lórien, but stayed to help me bear my grief, and my children."

"Then Legolas, Arwen, everyone knew about you but me?" Aragorn was still trying to fathom the mystery that had been kept from him.

"Arwen kept the secret since I was a young child. She knew what I saw, though it grieved her to keep so close a secret from you. Legolas and the elves of Mirkwood knew only that I was Mithir, a wife of a ranger, and had dealings with Gandalf. They knew I was a dear friend of Arwen, since she was often with me, and I think many among the Elves and the Dúnedain thought I was of a noble family of Gondor. At Gandalf and Elrond's request they kept Arandur hidden and safe for me, and so called him Hallon." 

Aragorn nodded, beginning to see the picture. 

"Although," she added with a grin, "the name has come to reflect his favorite sport with them, trying to hide and deceive their elven sight."

"A difficult feat."

"He succeeds more often than you'd expect." She turned to look at the boy, still conversing with Legolas. "Arandur, come here. There is someone I would have you meet."

The boy turned at his mother's word, and spotted Aragorn. He seemed instinctively to know the older man. Approaching them, he unexpectedly dropped to his knees.

"Hir-nin a Aran-nin, my Lord and my King." He slowly handed Aragorn his sword, which he took awkwardly, a little shocked by the boy's words. "You have my service for all time."

"And I accept it with great pride son of Halbarad." Aragorn laid the boy's sword over his shoulders and then raised him to his feet. He placed the sword back in Arandur's hands. "You shall have need of this tonight, if you are to fulfill your promise."

"I have something else for you, M'lord." The young man slipped over to where his belongings were and pulled out a dark bundle. 

"The lady Arwen sent it with me. She has worked on it long, in secret. She sent it with these words." He repeated them carefully. "The days now are short. Either our hope cometh or all hope's end. Therefore I send thee what I have made for thee. Farewell Elfstone."

Aragorn solemnly held the bundle, but did not unroll it. "I know now what it is that you bear, son of Halbarad, and I ask you to bear it for me a little longer."

"As you will, hir-min." The boy walked over to his bundle of possessions and carefully rewrapped the bundle in several layers of leather before putting it away.

"I have something for you as well mother, from Uncle Halbeleg. He said to say that Father would have wanted you to have it." He handed her another bundle of leather. Aranel took it. She pulled away the wrappings gently to reveal a strong, black bow. Standing quickly, she strung it and pulled the string to her ear. Of all the instruments of war, this one she was most comfortable with. And this bow!

"That is not wood," Legolas said softly, "but metal."

"Black Numenorian steel," Aragorn added, "but I thought the skill of such craft had been lost."

"As did I," Aranel added, "this was a relic of old, treasured by my husband's people, but worn and rusted. Why would he send it to me?"

"Uncle Halbeleg sought long for a way to repair it." Arandur tried to explain. "And finally we found it in Elrond's library, but we could not find the grade of steel to restore it to full height, so it was made for you. There is a quiver as well, and many strong arrows."

"This is Nimloth's work, Aranel admired the designs on the quiver as she strapped it on.

"Yes, she helped me fletch the arrows as well." 

"Who," Aragorn asked, "is this maiden Nimloth?

Arandur glanced at his mother for a second, then answered, "She is my twin sister."

"More gwanûn?" Aragorn shot his own twin sister a puzzled look.

"According to Elrond, it runs in the Maia blood." Aranel replied softly, with a crooked grin on her face. 

"It certainly seems to run in your family somehow." Legolas agreed. Aragorn was about to make a quip about Legolas' own family when a loud horn interrupted their camaraderie. The men rushed to the small parapets, but Aranel did not need to see the Orcish host coming over the pass into helms deep to know of their approach. 

"The Horn of Saruman's forward guard. Let them come."

* * *

A/N: The astute reader will notice that this chapter and the following few have my unique mix of book-verse and movie-verse. It makes the sequence work out for the best, but I'm hoping it won't be too confusing, since the primary action is going to take place from a different perspective.

**Letylef: ** Glad you like Aranel...I'm trying not to make her a Mary-Sue. I think the fact that she's an 87-year-old single mom helps a lot! So you like Movie Faramir? Hm...I guess I found that his suspicions made sense; it was logical for him to guess that Frodo had the ring and want to use it for Gondor. But his actions at Osgiliath didn't! I mean consider the facts running through his mind. A. The ring has great powers. B. I want to use those powers for Gondor C. The hobit just almost gave the ring to a nazgul so D. let's send the hobbit and the ring to Mordor! It just doesn't compute! But that's just an opinion! And did they throw in the Elves for Fan appeal...hm...interesting idea. I might be one of those obsessed fans. But only because more Elves = more Sindarian. (I know, I'm addicted) And thanks for heads up on the errors. Let me know if you see any more!


	6. Chapter 6: Dagor, Battle Arrives

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Mithir: Eye of the white Council

Chapter 6: Dagor, Battle

  


With the call of the orc-horn the forces of Helm's deep surged into their final positions to await the attack. Saruman's force was only a league away. The small company of four hastily headed for the stairs to the top level of parapets. As they made their way up the stairs crowded with men and elves making for their positions, Aragorn posed a question to his sister.

"Where will you stand?"

"With Théoden's archers above the gate. From there I will be able to see the course of the battle and perhaps anticipate Saruman's moves. Will you come with me Arandur?" her words more a command than a question.

"I would rather stay on the Deepening Wall." The eyes of mother and son locked for a second, and Aragorn and Legolas got the distinct impression that Aranel would rather have her son tucked safely away in the Glittering Caves, or better yet in Rivendell. 

"Stay near Legolas and the elves, then." She finally agreed, and sent a pleading look in Legolas' direction. He nodded and Aranel felt a little relieved to know that her son was once again under the capable elf's watch, but only a little. Perhaps, she thought, this was the reason why women did not normally fight in battles. Fighting with her husband had never caused such anxiety, but when it came to her little boy… Well Arandur was a boy no longer, and tonight no amount of fretting would protect him. 

They reached the top of the stairs and parted from one another, Aranel determined not to watch her son as if he were never coming back. In the second circle of the Hornburg she found the leaders of the elves giving the company their final instructions for battle.

"Haldir? Have you seen the sons of Elrond?"

"They stand above the Gates of the Hornburg."

She mounted the stairs quickly, and walked over to Elladan and Elrohir.

"Well?" Elladan asked, as they watched the orcs approach.

"It is not a tale for a time like this. If we survive the night I will tell him the full story of how I came to be here."

"Father knew we would find you here. He sent with me words for you." Elrohir spoke softly, so none of Theoden's men could hear.

"What does Elrond say to me?"

"'Do not let pride stand in the way of owning all that you have done, and do not let fear stand in the way of moving beyond it.'"

"He is right," she agreed reluctantly. "Aragorn will know all, ere he look upon the White City, and I shall ride through its gates without fear."

* * *

Arandur followed Legolas to the top of the wall and through the mass of elves and men that stood there arranging themselves into battle position. Legolas led the boy past the archers of Lórien to a spot midway between the keep and the end of the wall. There, between the elves and Théoden's men was a grim dwarf.

"Arandur, this is Gimli, Gloin's son, another member of the fellowship," Legolas introduced, "and, Gimli, this is Arandur, son of Aranel and Halbarad, and nephew to Aragorn."

Arandur had the unusual experience of being sized up by someone a full head shorter than him, but he was used to probing looks from Legolas or Elrohir and Elledan so he stood tall and assessed the stout warrior in front of him

"You are one of Balin's folk then?" he asked at last.

"Aye, and you're the spitting image of your uncle, laddie; and if you're half his worth with a sword, you'll welcome at my side."

"Thank you master Dwarf," Arandur replied with a grin. "I hope to measure up to him." Legolas and Gimli fell to bickering over their place on the wall, and Arandur found his eyes glued to the advancing orcs. They were still too far to be within range, but close enough for his numenorian eyesight to pick out a few individual forms. They were bigger than Arandur had expected. He'd been in skirmishes along the misty mountains before, but those orcs were generally less equipped and without good advice on tactics, and they were smaller. He shifted to get a better look and felt his elbow connect with something. He spun to find a boy, perhaps a year or two younger than himself. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't notice you." Arandur apologized gracefully.

"O, it's my fault, I should watch where I'm going." The other boy looked to be one of the Rhohirim from his blond hair. 

"Don't worry about it. What's your name?" Arandur asked. 

"Háleth, son of Háma. Are you an elf?"

Arandur chuckled, "No, but I suppose I look like one. They weren't going to let me come to the battle, said I was too young, so I had to disguise myself. My hair is really as dark as a raven's."

"So you're one of those Dúnedain from Gondor?" Háleth questioned. 

"No, but their kin from the North. Lord Aragorn is my uncle."

"Really?" This obviously impressed the Rohirrim boy. "Did he teach you how to fight?"

"No, I learned from the elves, and from my mother."

"Your mother, is she a shield-maiden?"

"Not completely, she's one of the ethir, a spy." Arandur wanted to shift some of the attention away from himself. "That's a wonderful-looking sword you have there."

"It was my father's." Háleth said softly. "He fell yesterday fighting the orcs and wargs."

"I'm sorry," Arandur put a hand on the other boy's shoulder. "Mine died fighting orcs too, before I was born." He looked Háleth in the eyes. "It's up to us to avenge them, to make regret every crossing the path of Halbarad of the Dunedain and…" He paused, not knowing Háleth's father's name.

"Háma." He supplied

"For every crossing the paths of Halbarad of the Dunedain and Háma of Rohan."

"We should swear to it." Háleth said, getting into the spirit. 

"I swear by the sword that was broken," Arandur started

"And I by the fields of Rohan, that…." Arandur nodded his encouragement, "that…we will not let their deaths be…unvanquished." 

Aragorn's approach caught both boys' attention.

"Well lad, the luck you live by, let's hope it lasts the night." Gimli said

"Your friends are with you, Aragorn." Legolas added. Arandur missed Gimli's reply trying not to chuckle at Háleth's awed expression as the lordly man approached. 

"Háleth, son of Háma, I am comforted by your sword here tonight."

"Thank-you sir." Háleth managed to say, as Aragorn turned to his nephew.

"Hir-nin," Arandur bowed his head a little in respect.

"Thelion, you stand for the Dunedain with me tonight." He said solemnly.

"I will stand well for them." Arandur promised, and Aragorn was about to move down along the elves, when he saw Arandur draw his sword. 

"You carry Gilcrist?" He said with a little amazement.

"Lord Elrond called it that, yes, when he told me to carry it on the watch."

"And did Lord Elrond tell you why it was called so?"

"No, he just said he no longer needed it."

"It is called the star-cleaver because it was forged by Earendil the mariner in the light of the simiril, for his eldest boy. Lord Elrond has given you something most precious indeed."

"But did he mean for me to keep it?" Arandur said worriedly. "I was to return with the watch, not hide among Elledan and Elrohir."

"I have no doubt he knew of your intentions and decided it would be prudent to send you off well-armed. Put what he has given you to good use." And with that Aragorn was off down the wall, leaving Arandur staring in awe at the blade he held.

"What did he tell you?" Háleth asked. 

"That my sword belonged to one of our great ancestors." He said, sheathing it and drawing his bow. 

"A Eruchin, ú-dano i faelas a hyn an uben tanatha le." Aragorn's voice rang out over the troops.

At Háleth's request, Arandur translated, "Children of Eru, show them no mercy, for you shall receive none."

They stood watching as the orcs approached, and laughed a little as Legolas offered Gimli a box. The orcs paused, perhaps 20 paces from the wall, began to pound their spears. Aranath's heart felt like it would pound out of his chest as he waited. He glanced over at his new friend only to see him release the arrow. It was a good shot and fell one of the first of Saruman's warriors, but Háleth cringed at Aragorn's command to hold. He didn't have to understand the language to feel rebuked. Arandur shot him a reassuring look as the orcs charged, but held his own fire until Aragorn's command. He got in a few good volleys before the ladders came and drew his sword. 

One of the ladders was coming right at him and he called to Háleth. Together, they managed to gut the first orc with their swords, but had to retreat against the second before Arandur managed spin around him and shove his sword in the orc's side.

"Use their size against them!" he called to his friend. "They're not as fast as we are!"

Háleth nodded and dodged the orc coming at him, slicing across his undefended legs, and pushing the orc off the wall. He grinned at Arandur, who smiled back, before noticed the orc looming behind his friend.

"Duck!" Háleth spun, avoiding the stroke of the broadsword that would have cleaved his head in two, but taking a horrible slash over his shoulder. Arandur charged and struck the orc between his ribs before he could finish off the Rohiric boy. 

"Are you alright?" he turned to his friend, whose wound was already started to pour blood.

"Háleth nodded bravely, as Arandur pulled him into a small crevasse in the wall, just big enough for the two boys. Arandur tore a long strip from his tunic, and pulled a handful of herbs from a pouch on his belt. He mixed them with a little water from his water-skin and wrapped the wound tightly.

"Will they stop the bleeding," Háleth tried to hide his fear.

"They should. My sister sent them with me; she wants to be a healer."

"Hallon!" Legolas called behind them. "Can you draw from in there?" The boy pulled his bow from over his shoulder and strung an arrow.

"Yes"

"They stay there and shoot. We need to stop some of them before they get to the wall if we're going to have a chance. Watch his back." He instructed Háleth.

Arandur picked his shots carefully, aiming for the orcs that held up the mighty ladders. "Do you see any arrows?"

"A few, but they're orc arrows."

"They'll do. Can you grab a few?" Arandur asked. Háleth scurried out into the fray, blocking blows and returned with 5 or 6 orcish arrows. Arandur continued to fire, and Háleth fended off the few orcs that found their hiding place. Then Arandur noticed a huge orc carrying a white flaming torch. His arrow hit the orc's helm, and he heard his uncle's desperate cry as Legolas tried to bring the warrior down. 

"Hold on!" He screamed desperately to Háleth as the explosion rocked the wall. As the dust cleared, he saw the orcs pouring through the gap in the wall, just a few feet from them. There were so many of them, pouring into the keep.

"Come on, we have to stop them!" He felt Háleth pulling him to the edge of the gap and shoving him down behind a boulder. 

"Can't we shoot them from here?" Háleth drew his bow.

"Yes, yes, we have a perfect view." Arandur shook himself out of the fear and started to fire. 

* * *

*-Taken directly from the movie script, translation in text.

Thanks for reading and please review....the next chapter should be posted within the month!


	7. Chapter 7: Mathensul

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Mithir: Eye of the White Council

Chapter 7: Malthensul 

  


Aranel stood with Théoden on the walls of the keep, watching the forces of Saruman pound against the mighty walls. The fierce fighting was only more devastating when viewed from above.

"My lord, they are mounting an attack on the causeway," Gamling announced, "we must repel it with archers."

"I do not have the men to spare. We are too small a force to fight off all these attacks simultaneously." Théoden despaired.

"Have them retreat from the wall," Aranel advised. "We're still strong enough to hold the keep."

"Yes, have them pull back. Aragorn, to the keep!" Théoden cried.

"Na Barad, na barad." Aragorn passed the message on to the elves. Aranel watched with concern as the forces pulled in. Aranarth was out there somewhere, and she still could not prevent worrying over him. As her eyes scanned the wall, she saw Haldir fall mounting the stairs. One tear fell from her eyes in silent grief for the man who'd taught her so much as a child.

* * *

"Do you see any more arrows," Aranarth asked his friend, as his hit its target. 

"A few, but I see a group of orcs over there, and I think they might have seen me." 

Háleth said, with concern. 

"Na Barad! To the Keep!" The cries floated over to the two boys.

"They're calling a retreat." Aranarth said

"We have to get out of here!" Háleth agreed. 

"We have to get through those orcs." Aranarth said grimly.

"All of them?"

"I can see Legolas on the other side; we're only 20 or so paces from the keep."

"But there have to be a dozen of them, and two of us!"

"So we make them come to us." Aranarth grabbed a few more stray arrows. "You stand there, and I'll stand here," he indicated places behind two boulders on the side of the walkway, "and we'll draw them over here."

The boys took their places and started firing. Aranarth got off three arrows before the orcs realized what was going on. Háleth managed to bring down one and wound another. Both continued to shoot as the orcs charged the mysterious source of fire. They shot the first two before they got too close, but the next three nearly overwhelmed them. 

"Now!" Aranarth shouted, and the boys charged, instinctively standing back to back, stabbing and dodging and they tried to push through the remaining orcs. A blow to Háleth's thigh knocked him over, but he felt the orc fall behind him and looked up to see Aranarth pull his sword from the orcs back. 

They fended off a few more blows and then took off running down the causeway. At this point Aranarth realized the one flaw in his strategy. By drawing the ors to them, he'd nearly doubled the distance between them and the keep. He saw Háleth beside him starting to lag behind and stopped, firing off a few shots to buy them time. He caught up with the younger boy easily and practically dragged him up the stairs to Legolas' feet. The tall elf carefully helped them inside, followed by the last stragglers of the retreat. 

"A good strategy, tithen-nin. I was afraid I'd have to tell your mother you didn't make it." Legolas said with a smile that only barely masked his previous worry. Aranarth managed to grin back as he followed Legolas to the top of the keep.

* * *

Aranel exhaled with relief as she saw Legolas and Arandur in the circle below. With her son safe, she watched with concern as the attack on the gate gained force and speed. The causeway was vulnerable, and the shields the orcs held above them as they crept along did not protect well. Still, for every one that fell, three were ready to take his place. The attack made slow progress to the gate.

Suddenly they were within reach and a large battering ram was pulled into position. The men rushed to brace the massive doors, but the wood could only stand against such force for a short time. A breach appeared, and bolts were fired through on each side. Men clamored to replace the broken boards, but didn't have much luck until Aragorn appeared at the top of the stairs with Gimli.

"How much time do you need?" He asked Théoden.

"As much as you can give. We must repair the gates." The King replied. Aragorn called for Gimli and made for the stairs that led to the top of the gate to mount their attack from above.

"Wait," Aranel cried, "I'm coming with you." Aragorn only raised a skeptical eyebrow. "There's a door," she continued, "that leads around to the gates. Come on." She headed for the small postern door and cautiously opened it. "There's no way to open it from the other side." She warned.

"Onward." Aragorn urged, and the three crept out onto the edge of the precipice. Aranel had to stifle a laugh as her brother tossed Gimli onto the causeway, but found the fighting on the other side to be no laughing matter. They were terribly outnumbered, but the confined space reduced the orcs' advantage. Aranel killed the first two orcs easily, their shock still apparent, but the third was more of a challenge. Still, she was more agile, and as she jumped back away from the gates to avoid his powerful thrust, he skewered himself on her sword. Unable to quickly pull it free, she knocked one of her attackers off the causeway with an elbow to the throat and a kick to the groin. The other two she handled with her knife, but she had to jump back again when the fourth attacker nearly split her skull with his mace. By this time she had her sword free, and after a few parries managed to decapitate him. 

"Get out of there." Théoden's cry was barely audible over the din of the battle, but Aranel moved to obey before she realized it was too late. She'd come too far from the Burg in the last fight and was too far to the left. In truth, she'd attacked far more freely than her own skill merited. The orcs to her right would outflank her before she could reach the rope Legolas had thrown to Aragorn and Gimli.

"Aranel!" Her brother moved to jump back down in after her, but Aranel would not let him pay for her foolish mistake. I should have stayed closer to the gate. I shall have to make a larger spectacle than I hoped to get out of here.

"Stop." She raised her hand at him, knocking another pair of orcs over the side in an attempt to buy time.

"I won't leave you!"

"I wouldn't have come if I didn't have a way out!" With that she put two fingers to her mouth and gave a long three-noted whistle. Then she cut down two more orcs and moved away from the gate, and out of the reach of any misguided rescue. But she quickly met her match, and found herself in constant retreat from an orc with a massive broadsword. Backed up to the edge of the causeway, the only way to avoid his fatal blows was to jump off. So she did.

Arandur let out a scream from the walls above, and Aragorn and Gimli froze halfway up the wall before the words the boy screamed registered in anyone's ears.

"Malthensul!" he yelled again, as a great bird, nearly as large as one of the eagles, caught the woman's jerkin in his claws and pulled her up above the fray.

"What is it?" Aragorn asked the boy as he climbed over the parapet.

"Mother's great Golden Hawk." The boy replied, still staring at the magnificent bird. "She raised him from birth, because she rescued the mother Hawk's eggs."

"He's larger than any hawk I've ever seen." Aragorn marveled.

"Because he was raised in Lórien, or so the tales say." Arandur explained importantly as they stacked the last few massive timbers on the gate. It would hold much longer with these reinforcements.

"Why isn't he bringing her back?" Legolas asked.

"I don't know. Maybe mother wants to see the progress of the battle."

"So she can speak to him?" Legolas queried.

"Of course. She has even taught me some of the lamaewen."

* * *

"Drop a little closer there." Aranel pointed to one of the orcish defenses, whispering in the soft, throaty tongue of the birds that was as familiar to her as Sindarin or the common tongue. She was feeling exhilarated, as she always did when flying. Loath to return to the battle, she wanted to know the state of the orcish forces. What of the great host remained and what would their next step be?

A red flash flying above the arrows caught her eye, and she could barely call a warning to her ride when they made a sharp turn and a giant plunge. Suddenly they were careening into the rocky mountainside that enveloped the forest and everything went black.

* * *


	8. Chapter 8: Na i Coth, Among the Enemy

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Mithir: Eye of the White Council

Chapter 8: Na i-Coth, Among the Enemy 

  


Aranel awoke groggily and her first assessment was that she was not badly injured. She could move both legs and arm with a minimum of pain, although a small gash an orc had given her on the causeway was a little tender. As she bandaged it with strips from her tunic, she tried to remember what had happened. The gash had brought back the fight on the causeway and the figure of her hawk lying nearby brought back the rest. 

She crept over to him, but found no signs of damage. He stirred a little under her touch, and expressed his wish to get out of there. The red flame must have been a torch or flaming missile of some sort launched by one of the few usable catapults. But Malthensul had no singed feathers, so she decided the crash was the result of the uncontrolled steep drop while trying to avoid the flaming object. 

Confident in her knowledge that little damage had been done, she assessed the surroundings and decided that this was a relatively good place to crash. An uprising of rock protected them from being seen by the orcs and the steep hillsides made any attempt of attack nearly impossible. Considering Malthensul's stealth, it was quite possible they had not ever seen the crash. And if they had, they would have little idea of where to look. Now it remained to determine what to do. 

The first option, and the safest, was to stay put. She could wait here, tend to Malthensul, and bandage her own wounds. The battle she could have no part in would continue and she could hope for rescue in the morning. It would certainly be safe, but it was also unthinkable. Battles were not won by warriors sitting on the sidelines. 

She needed to leave this place. But the question was where. Getting back to the fortress was an impossible. She could attempt a series of stealth attacks on the enemy, but, at the most, she would bring down only a few. Against Saruman's thousands, there had to be a better way. But if those few were in some way important… 

She quickly hid her sword and bow, and the Rohirric helmet. The grey cloak was wrapped in a small packet on her back as always and she covered herself and crept down the mountain. Below the spear of rock were a number of fallen orcs. The arrows in them indicated that the Galadrim had prevented any attempt at outflanking. She scrambled among them and found a serviceable bow and quiver; then, with a grimace, she stripped the captain of his one and pulled on his armor, the stench assailing her. For this journey, though, she could not be a slave. Only orcs of high rank would be allowed where she was going. 

* * *

Arandur took the disappearance of his mother much more stoically than Aragorn expected. But then he came from a long line who expected to be cut down silently and alone. He wondered how many bodies of the ethir had been never found, or how many widows and children had waited many years, hoping against hope that one presumed dead might return. 

"We will find her." He promised the boy, and though he did not say whether they would find her dead or alive, or perhaps meet her beyond the circles of the world, Arandur understood. 

* * *


	9. Appendices

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Mithir Appendices

  


Appendicies will be updated for the revisions within a few days!

**Appendix A: Translations**

**Chapter 1-5**

Nad no Ennas: 'Something is out there'—copied directly from Legolas' line in TTT movie. Literally, thing is there. Of course the form 'no' is a somewhat speculative form but if it's good enough for David Salo, who knows more about Sindarin than probably anyone else, then it works for me. 

Mae Govannen: 'Welcome'—this whole dialogue section is direct from the movie. Literally means 'Well met.'

Ethir: 'spy or spies'—this Sindarin noun can be both plural and singular, like English sheep or moose

Man no tenn: 'What is it'—no is from the phrase above. Man and tenn are from a Sindarin dictionary. Since the phraseology is my own, I can't be sure that Sindarin questions use the same word order as English, but I think they do.

Estel: 'hope'—but you knew that one right?

Naneth: 'Mother'—Sindarin, 'Nana' is a common short form, the equivalent of mom or perhaps even mommy.

Aran-nin: 'My king'—Sindarin, nin is common first person possessive suffix, and can be added to just about anything. 

Hir-nin: 'My Lord'—Sindarin, see above.

**Chapter 6-Present**

Thelion: nephew, lit. "son of sister"—Sindarin, thel: sister, ion: son. Completely of my own construction. We honestly have little idea of what Tolkien's word would be, but this seems the most reasonable extrapolation, since in Tolkien's work 'ion' often means 'son of' (e.g. Legolas Thrandulion). I suppose the equivalent for son of brother would be torion. 

Na Barad: To the Keep, lit. "to the tower"—Sindarin, taken straight from the movie!

Tithen-nin: Little one, lit. "my little"—Sindarin, technically this isn't a noun, but it's attested to, so I'm using it!

Lamaewen: language of the birds—Sindarin, Lam is, among other things, a noun meaning language. Aewen is an adjective meaning 'of the birds'.

**Appendix B: Names and Their Meanings**

Mithir: 'Grey spy or grey watcher'—A name I created. 'Mith' is the Sindarin for grey, and 'ethir' is spy. Combining the words and condensing the repeated consonants yields 'mithir'. Since 'ethir' is derived from the Sindarin words for out and watcher, and the 'out' element ('ed-') is eliminated in condensing, grey watcher also becomes a possible translation.

Fírebthêl (pronounced Fi-reb-theel, with a long 'i' as in fire, and a long 'e' as in reel.) is an Elvish phrase of my own construction. It is a simple combination of the Sindarin words for mortal 'Fíreb', and sister 'thêl.' 

Aranel is actually the Quenya word for princess. It is the only Quenya I use in the story, since Sindarin is the common Elvish language in the Lord of the Rings time period. In Sindarin it would have no meaning, except as a name, just as many English used today are derived from Latin or Old English. 

Maegor: From two roots in the Silmarillion Appendix Elements in Quenya and Sindarin Names. Maeg is sharp or piercing, and gor is horror or dread. I'm not totally sure if it's permissible to use it as a suffix, as none of the examples do, but I'm going with it anyways. And the double g is eliminated because it sounds odd. And apparently Tolkien agrees with me and this sort of thing is called a soft mutation. Although they do get increasingly more complicated from there.

Aranarth is particularly symbolic name for Aranel's son, as he was the first of the heirs of Isildur after the fall of Anor. He took the title chief of the Dunedain rather than King of Anor. As far as I can tell, it originally meant "kingdom" but was replaced with _Arnad_ I do not know if any other meaning was reassigned when it was used as a name, so the meaning is still quite unclear.

Hallon: 'Hidden one'—A rough translation of a name I created. Hall is Sindarin for hidden. –on is a common male name ending. 

Halbarad: name taken from the leader of the group of rangers that appears in the books but not the movies. For how this character was modified for the sake of the story, see Appendix C below. And if you're curious about the meaning, it's quite the puzzle. Hall is an adjective that can mean either hidden or high/exalted. Barad means tower/ fortress. Possible options that make sense are high tower, hidden fortress, exalted fortress, or maybe exalted tower. 

Turiel: 'Victoria.' From Tur: victory, and –iel, a common female name ending. This is a name created in the method you see Quenya lapseparma (link to the site is in my profile). It basically forms names by using Elvish nouns or adjectives and adding male or female endings to them. 

Gilcrist: "Star-cleaver" Another combination of roots from the appendix to the Silmarillion. Gil is star, crist is cleaver, or cutter. 

Malthensul: 'Golden wind'—from Sindarin malthen, golden, and sul, wind. It seemed an appropriate name for the large Golden Hawk that serves as Aranel's steed.

(And for anyone who's curious, names not included in the list above are either cannon or not Elvish. In the latter case they are chosen for the sound patterns alone.)

**Appendix C: Deviations from cannon, bookverse vs. movieverse etc.**

Halbarad: In the books, he is the captain of the host of rangers that meets Aragorn during the ride to Erodas. Assuming this host was replaced by a company of elves that arrived at Helm's deep in the movies, I decided to not let this name go to waste. His essential qualities, those that we know, are not changed. He is still a captain of the rangers, and in both cases the assumption that he is a distant relative of Aragon has merit. 

The Elven host: This story is based largely on the assumption that the group led by Haldir replaces the group of Rangers that joins Aragorn after Helm's Deep in RotK. There is some confusion here, because the Extended DVD of FotR indicates that Haldir is from Lórien, but he claims to bring word from Rivendell. I really don't understand the nature of the communications between Elrond and Galadriel. Obviously there is some mechanism (her mirror or some such thing), but when Haldir says he brings greetings from Elrond, does he mean that he is passing on a message sent through Galadriel, or that some members of the company are from Rivendell? The first seems like quite the presumption, the second is perhaps simpler logistically. I suppose both are possible, but since the group in the book came from Rivendell, and that is necessary for my story, we're going to assume that part of this group was sent by Elrond from Rivendell, including Elladan and Elrohir, and that they met with the others at some point on the journey. 

And yes, as letylyf points out, there are a number of logistical problems with this, but those are Peter Jackson's problems, not mine. I'm just going to assume that Elrond and Galadriel had the foresight to send them off a few weeks earlier. Galadriel does have the ability to see the future. And I'm still working on a way to get the Dúnedain in there. Who else is Aragorn supposed to take through the paths of the dead? I suppose that with Haldir dead, the Elves would be more likely to follow him than Théoden, but it still doesn't seem as fitting. 

**Appendix D: Table of Aranel's Aliases**

I thought this might be helpful for anyone who gets confused by the multiple names I give the girl! They are in order of appearance in the story.

Mog: The name Aranel uses when among orcs or as an orc slave

Mithir: Name used by Elves and men to refer to the spy who regularly brings messages to Gandalf and Elrond. Only the White council knows that Mithir is truly Aranel.

Fírebthêl: The name Aranel used as a child in Lórien, and among the Dúnedain who believe she is the orphan of some Gondorian nobleman, raised by Elves. Also the name she gave the Elves of Mirkwood. 

Aranel: Her true name, given to her by her parents and known by only a few.

**Appendix E: Selected Chronology of the Third Age**

Will be adeded once we get into the backstory


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